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My brain is swirling with choices. We are painting a huge room in our house so I am thinking about whether deep purple goes better with grey-beige or a more rich yellow-beige, or should I can the purple and instead go with dark red? So there's that. My phone is about to die, I can just feel it, and since I don' t have a laptop I would really love to step into the present technology-wise and get a phone that is capable of going online. The best one out there is the iPhone in my opinion, but that means switching to AT & T, a big step for me. Should I do it?

Then for my screenwriting course I am charged with coming up with three well-thought ideas for screenplays only one of which I will spend the semester pursuing (and it will be a pursuit, I will be chasing my vision of what the story should look like for page after page, hour after sleepy hour, and in the end come close, maybe even very close). This most important decision is being crowded out however by my dog. What to do about the dog who thinks his day job is home demolition. Thank god he has not started in on the furniture, but we don't have a single door frame left that he has not masticated quite thoroughly in his panicked fury at being left all alone in a cozy warm (we leave the heat at 69 for him) home to nap-it-up all day. Poor guy. Really, why can't you reason with a dog? He would do anything, anything to be able to spend the whole day with me – which is a great compliment, but it's not possible, so he needs to get a grip.

Then there is, of course, the ever looming choices about my funds. My cousin's girlfriend had some really cute jeans on the other day and I want a pair, actually I need a pair in that American, I just can't ever find the right pair of jeans sort of way, but actually shelling out the clams to buy them means I may be eating pasta for the rest of the month. I can handle that, but all those carbs will give my brain that fuzzy feeling I have automatically every day right around 3pm after staring at the computer for 6 hours, and make deciding on any of these things infinitely more difficult. That is how the salesmen get you to buy a car, you know. They just keep you there fake-deciding on things and fake-negotiating with them until you get fuzzy and buy the wrong car for too much money, and then it costs so much to park it near your office that you never drive it anyways, but your husband does and he gets it all Mountain-Dew sticky and thinks he is the driving-the-car expert who can teach you how to drive better from the passenger's seat if you ever do get to actually drive. Yes, the new jeans will just have to wait.